


keep this scene inside your head

by scap3goat (kriegswaffel)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hannibal can talk his way out of anything, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Memory Loss, Seizures, Stubble Burn, naked chef, suspected non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 14:41:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2113764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kriegswaffel/pseuds/scap3goat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham was almost getting used to losing time, but this time something was different, wrong even. Because usually he didn't come to himself naked in a stranger's bed.</p><p>Set towards the end of season 1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. as the bruises turn to yellow

Will was warm, sweaty and sticky when he woke up, the room completely silent. Although his mind was still sluggish he stopped and listened closely, waiting for the inevitable rustle of fur, a gentle whimper of recognition or the click of claws against hardwood.

Nothing came.

So Will wasn’t at home - he couldn’t fathom any other reason as to why his dogs shouldn’t be there.

And he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten here.

When he opened his eyes he blinked at unfamiliar surroundings: an almost plain but indubitably elegant bedroom, muted but rich colors, dark woods and near-pristine white sheets. When Will pushed himself up he found that he was naked and sticking to the sheets in a way he hadn’t in a long time. After a moment a subtle ache in his thighs registered with him and Will closed his eyes against the rise of panic.

No hint of how he’d gotten here appeared in his mind.

He stumbled out of bed and easily found the en suite by the door left open. He reached the toilet just in time for the first spell of heaving, bringing up nothing but traces of bitter bile. After he was confident his stomach had settled - pointedly not thinking about what might have happened - he staggered to the shower and spent the first ten minutes just sitting under the hot spray.

Eventually he worked up the courage to inspect himself, starting with his arms. He found no signs of struggle, no bruises to his wrists that indicated him having been held down. He suspected there was a tender spot at his neck, his skin giving a soft tingle as he traced his fingers down there, but there was no indication he had been choked as a means of control.

His breath was coming quicker as he realized the natural next step was to go straight to the area of concern and he held his head higher, eyes squeezed shut. With a shaking hand he reached for his knee, spread his drawn up legs a little and let his fingers trail down to his inner thigh.

A sharp sting bloomed under his skin as he pressed his fingers to the tender skin. On the verge of hyperventilating already, Will braved his fear and opened his eyes, blinking against the water still raining down on him, then looked down to where his fingertips pressed against bruised and scratched skin.

He whimpered, quickly assessing that his ankles showed no signs of being bound either, and turned his head back up into the spray.

So he’d woken in a stranger’s bedroom, in their bed, obvious signs of sexual activity but the lack of marks on his wrists and ankles suggesting that he’d not been struggling.

‘Or in no state to be struggling,’ his panic whispered softly.

With another pitiful whimper he let his fingers wander further, finding nothing but his cock’s interest in the continued inspection Will gave himself.

A hint or relief washed over Will: he had no first-hand experience with being penetrated, but especially because of that he figured that he’d feel the aftereffects if he had been taken.

He winced against the expression but found that he’d calmed enough to rise to his feet again. He quickly rubbed the bar of soap he found over himself and rinsed off before finally stepping out of the shower. He picked a towel off the neat stack and wrapped himself in it, finding it comfortably soft and large.

Back in the bedroom he found no trace of his clothes. Debating what to do Will settled for pulling the sheet from the bed and wrapping himself in it, another layer of perceived protection. He felt his sense of self-preservation must be non-existent when he’d walk out of a possible attacker/kidnapper’s bedroom in nothing but two squares of fabric wrapped around himself.

As he padded down the hall and then a flight of stairs barefooted the surroundings got increasingly more familiar. He probably shouldn’t have felt the surge of relief pass through him when he realized he was in Hannibal Lecter’s home.

Will found his way to Hannibal’s kitchen with ease, somehow expecting the man to be there.

What he found though was so abstruse that his mind didn’t have any time to panic about the implications.

“Good morning, Will,” Hannibal greeted him, smiling nonchalantly as if he was in his three-piece-suit and not just an apron. Hannibal noted Will’s wandering glances and his smile almost widened. “I was out for my usual morning run and showered in one of the guest room. I’d forgotten a change of clothes but I didn’t want to disturb you. You were resting fitfully and I did not want you to wake to the sight of me getting dressed.”

Will paused, thinking Hannibal’s reasoning through.

“And you thought it would be better to find you doing the naked chef routine?”

Hannibal gave him a soft smile. “Our clothes are in the process of being washed and dried. I’d hoped you’d be asleep until I could bring you your own clothes. You came to me soaked to the bone last night, your clothes dirty.”

Will blinked at Hannibal, trying to process what he was saying. Hannibal sensed Will’s troubles and poured the consultant a cup of coffee before going on explaining the details.

“You came to me in a state of distress. You must have wandered the woods aimlessly to be as soaked through and dirty as you were. I was in the process of going to bed when you arrived here. You were panicked and could barely talk. I made you a cup of tea and offered for you to stay the night. You weren’t indicating reluctance so I led you upstairs and attempted to help you out of your clothes. You panicked again and I had to give you diazepam to help you calm down, lest you hurt yourself attempting to flee.”

Will nursed his cup of coffee slowly, the hot liquid a welcome distraction. His mind was trying to settle into the warm, comfortable explanation and Will wondered if he was still feeling the effects of the medication.

“I managed to help you undress and get you settled in bed. I took your clothes to wash and retired to a guest room for the night. Alas my robe and pajamas had been dirtied by our encounter and your struggling and so I found myself sleeping naked. Which was of course preferable to waking you.”

A blush of embarrassment crept into Will’s face and he pulled the sheet tighter around himself. “You didn’t have to.”

Hannibal grinned at him and turned away from the stove. Will was a little relieved that he was spared the sight of Hannibal’s half-bared ass. He wasn’t a stranger to nudity and he didn’t mind usually, but somehow he felt affected in ways he couldn’t explain.

“Oh, I insist that it was. You’re my friend, Will. And the plan was for you to sleep on until the dryer had done its work. Speaking of which, I think it should be ready now.”

Hannibal set the pot on the stove straight before striding off, leaving the apron on unlike he usually did when he left the kitchen.

Will leaned against the counter, emotionally exhausted and raw. The scent of coffee engulfing him, familiar and calm, managed to ground him, relax him.

Instead of announcing his arrival Hannibal turned the conversation back to food: “I have prepared steamed eggs for breakfast, if you feel you can stomach anything.”

Will warily looked up at Hannibal, back in his familiar blue robe. He handed Will’s folded clothes to him, still warm from the dryer and Will felt the urge to bury his face in the warm clothes.

A distant part of his mind realized that, as rich and refined as Hannibal was, the psychiatrist did his own laundry or at least knew how to operate the washing machine and dryer. He’d expected the man to employ staff for that kind of thing, but he had yet to see any staff but the sous chefs and waiters Hannibal had employed for his banquet.

Gently Hannibal eased the near empty cup out of Will’s fingers. “Why don’t you go dressed? Breakfast and more coffee shall be ready once you are.”

Will nodded shakily and turned back to the hallways and eventually the stairs.

A small smile played around Hannibal’s lips as he watched Will go, undoubtedly back to Hannibal’s bedroom, to get changed.

He wondered if Will would bring up the state of his thighs and whether Hannibal had noticed anything about it.


	2. and the swelling goes down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things Will doesn't remember and that might - in hindsight - not be any better than what he feared had happened.
> 
> (basically no plot)

Will knew he was panicking, but he simply couldn’t control his shaking. He was losing his mind, he knew.

It was everything he was afraid of, drowning in the endless see of his own madness, made up of the atrocities of a thousand deranged minds, their essence distilled and harbored by Will’s own.

“I’ve got you,” muttered Hannibal, his hands firmly on either side of Will’s head, the base of his thumbs pressed against the angles of Will’s jaw, index fingers over and middle fingers under Will’s ears, fingertips easing gentle force against Will’s skull.

With a hysterical laugh Will realized that Hannibal could easily snap his neck, it would only take a brisk movement to either side and Will would slump to the floor, finally at peace.

“Will,” Hannibal said softly but firmly, seemingly not at all perturbed by Will’s slow descent into madness. “Look at me, Will.”

Somehow Will’s breathing slowed down a little and finally he was able to look up, into Hannibals maroon eyes, the reflections of the dancing fire making flecks of blood red appear in his iris.

“There is no reason for you to panic. I’ve got you. You are safe with me, Will.”

Hannibal’s voice was dark, warm and soothing, like a velvet hood placed over an animals head to calm them. It helped.

“I’ve got you,” Hannibal said again, tilting his head lightly and, when he saw in Will’s eyes what he was looking for, he let his hands slip down from his face over his neck to his shoulders.

Will let his eyes fall habitually down to his hands, fingers still loosely grabbing Hannibal’s lapels.

Suddenly he knew what he needed. His fingers tightened around Hannibal’s suit and tilted his head back up, using Hannibal’s surprise to pull him close and into a messy kiss. Their lips were crashing together inelegantly, almost painfully.

For a moment Hannibal let the kiss continue but then pushed Will away a little by his shoulders.

“Will, you’re not thinking straight,” murmured Hannibal, his eyes heavy lidded and focused on Will’s lips.

“Unless that’s a really stupid pun I am thinking straight,” Will reassured him, talking too fast and his voice shaking. “I am. I do.”

“Will,” Hannibal began again. “We both know that you are rather firmly fixed on the heterosexual spectrum.”

“So?” whispered Will, laughing anxiously. “I’m… I’m experimenting… don’t you want to broaden my palate?”

Even Will’s shaking attempts at joke held some humor. But Hannibal would not let him know just how amusing and alluring Hannibal found the situation. “You’re clinging to me for comfort, what you’re planning to do is to distract you of your misery. If nothing else you crave to lose control in a way you can predict if you cannot prevent loss of control.”

“No, no, no!” Will pleaded, forcing himself to calm down, to slowly cup Hannibal’s face instead of grabbing his lapels desperately. “I want this. You. Us.”

“You want distraction, Will. Sex is an easy distraction. Your body so preoccupied that you mind has little chance but to be silent.”

Will looked up at Hannibal with large eyes, pupils narrowed and fixed on Hannibal. “No,” he said quietly. “I want you, Hannibal. Please give me a chance to prove it.”

Perhaps the truth was that he wanted to lose himself in the calm, organized persona Hannibal presented to him, the controlled, always neat gentleman. Serial killers got into his mind so easily, why couldn’t he just for once fall into Hannibal’s mind and relish in the quiet that hung around the man like a halo, have the proverbial abyss stare back at him.

He lowered his eyes to Hannibal’s lips and leaned in, slowly. He counted it a success when Hannibal didn’t pull back, let Will trace his slightly parted lips over Hannibal’s, eyes fluttering shut with pleasure.

“Will,” Hannibal asked one last time. “Our relationship can never be the same after this.”

“Like I care for being the same as everyone else,” muttered Will, his voice surprisingly calm and sharp, considering the state he’d been in mere seconds ago. At his tone Hannibal’s lips curled into a small smile and he put his hands on Will’s upper arms.

Then Will even managed to surprise him when he’d ran his lips down to Hannibal’s neck, lips, stubble and teeth tracing the paths his fingers had taken before, a hand trailing down Hannibal’s body and boldly running over his groin.

At last the consultant had felt something radiate off the psychiatrist, an interest piqued, and went along with that feeling.

“Will,” Hannibal all but purred, a last half-warning.

“I want this,” Will reassured him again, voice low and fingers slowly squeezing, coaxing a palpable physical reaction out of Hannibal. He purred softly when indeed he felt Hannibal harden under his fingers.

“Then we better get comfortable,” Hannibal replied nonchalantly, lifted Will’s hand and kissed the knuckles allthewhile he kept Will pinned in place with his dark eyes.

For a moment Will faltered, cold feet in the face of that last leap into the abyss that was Hannibal Lecter, but then let Hannibal lead him, holding Will’s hand firmly, keeping him close and steady.

They walked away from the study, up the stairs, right into what Will suspected must be Hannibal’s bedroom. He’d never had chance to imagine the room so he took a moment to let his eyes wander over the exquisit furniture, white sheets and pillows almost glowing in the moonlight falling through the rounded window right above the headboard. There was a fireplace, dark right now but suitably decadent and classic, conjuring images of languid winter days spent basking in the warmth of the sheets and a merry fire.

Will took a deep breath, trying to suppress the images that were rising, unsure whether it was his own imagination or Hannibal’s.

Suddenly he felt Hannibal behind himself, hands falling comfortably solidly on Will’s shoulders, and yet a shudder went through Will, one he couldn’t quite place, though.

“You just need to say the word, if you start to feel uncomfortable,” Hannibal whispered into Will’s ear, his hot breath brushing against Will’s ear and cheek.

Somehow it was enough to spur Will into action, making him feel like he was being challenged and Will Graham never backed away from a challenge. So he turned around and pulled Hannibal close again, stifling his fear with another kiss, unrefined, brutal even.

At the same time his fingers wandered, undid buttons and pushed at fabric, fabric that kept him away from Hannibal’s skin, the simplicity of his bared body.

Hannibal returned the ministrations, slowly, in control. Unlike Will he couldn’t just push the clothes off, he had to push Will away shortly to pull the henley shirt over Will’s head. He took a brief inventory of Will’s state, left him hanging for a moment before stepping in and kissing Will, taking the lead and pushing Will towards the bed.  
Will didn’t waste any more time, seeing that his hurried removal of Hannibal’s waistcoat and shirt had been rewarded, and fumbled with Hannibal’s trousers next, undoing buttons and zipper. He had to stop when his legs hit the bed and almost fell back on the bed. Hannibal took advantage of the situation and gave Will a brief push so Will found himself lying back on the bed, blinking up at Hannibal with wide eyes.

Hannibal let his eyes skim over Will’s body, took in the toll his ailment hat taken on him, how skinny he’d become, his skin clammy with a fine sheen of stale sweat. And yet Hannibal couldn’t imagine anything that would taste sweeter than the kisses he placed down Will’s neck and chest, tongue darting out to taste and to tease.

A first moan escaped Will, a pathetic sound he tried to stifle by stuffing his hand into his mouth, and Hannibal used the distraction to get rid of Will’s trousers and underwear, ignoring the almost threadbare boxershorts.

It took Hannibal nuzzling Will’s crotch for Will to even notice that he’d been undressed fully. He looked up at Hannibal, eyes wide with confusion, pupils tight with arousal, fingers digging uselessly into the bedspread.

He’d never thought he’d feel desire rush through him when Hannibal straightened, pulling himself up to his full height, the dim light painting soft highlights on his lean lines. Will arched a little when he saw Hannibal taking off his trousers, forcing himself to keep his eyes on the spectacle before him, let his eyes follow every graceful movement as underwear and socks followed.

There was something about the way Hannibal stood there - naked, half-erect and proud - that reminded Will of hellenistic mythical imagery: proud gods and demigods and men often too brazen for their own good. Which Hannibal was Will could not tell.

With slow, graceful movements Hannibal straddled Will’s hips, running his hands up Will’s sides.

“You’re beautiful, Will,” muttered Hannibal, head tilted to the side.

A self-depreciating laugh escaped Will, shaky and hollow. He covered his eyes with his hand and turned his head away.  “Yeah?”

“Don’t,” coaxed Hannibal. “You’re beautiful, Will. In mind and body.” With a gentle but firm grip Hannibal turned Will’s face toward him and leaned down for a long, slow kiss.

Somehow Will found himself relaxing, lifting his hips into the movement when Hannibal slowly rubbed against him, clever lips still teasing at his, agile tongue tracing and chasing his.

A keening sound escaped when Hannibal pulled away, Will’s eyes following, impossibly wide. Hannibal directed Will gently further on the bed until they were properly positioned, all limbs on the mattress.

Will’s eyes fell shut immediately when Hannibal lowered his head again, to Will’s throat this time, sucking at a low point over his jugular, intent on leaving a mark. Will didn’t protest, clawed desperately at Hannibal’s shoulders and running fingers into his hair, mindful of pulling at the ashen strands.

Sounds he hadn’t thought himself capable of left Will’s throat, visceral and raw like the desire that Hannibal brought out in him, and so new and frightening.

Again he hardly noticed Hannibal had moved further until a sting at his nipple brought his attention to Hannibal’s position, then a lick to his navel followed and, drawing another moan from Will, Hannibal’s stubbled cheek brushed against his thigh, tongue darting out to lick at Will’s balls. Without need for any further encouragement Will spread his legs, allowing Hannibal to settle between them.

Will gasped when Hannibal licked up his inner thigh, sucking at the tender skin and letting his light stubble tease Will. He changed from one side to the other, not satisfied until the skin was slick and felt hot to his touch. Will only caught a break when Hannibal pulled back, admiring his handiwork. He let his large hands slip over Will’s body and lay down next to Will again, claiming his already kiss-swollen lips again.

Hannibal’s kisses took away what little doubt Will still had, the sensation going straight to his cock and making him ache with desire for the other man. He found himself so occupied with the stray thoughts that managed to penetrate the haze of arousal that he didn’t realize that he was being turned on his front, face buried in sinfully soft pillows.

“Let me admire you,” murmured Hannibal before tracing his lips and tongue over Will’s shoulders and back, giving his neck a gentle bite before wandering down further. Will’s hips pushed up into Hannibal’s touch out of their own accord and Will could no longer deny that he was hopelessly lost.

Hannibal smiled at Will’s eagerness and let his fingers trail ever so gently over the pale skin of Will’s ass, raising goosebumps in their wake and steal another moan from Will’s lips.

“Cross your ankles and keep your knees together,” Hannibal ordered and ran his hands over Will’s back, grabbing his hips and pulling them slightly up. He settled behind Will, stroking himself slowly.

Will gasped when he felt Hannibal push between his sweat and spit slicked thighs. It was a strange sensation for him, having Hannibal brush against him, a penetration without any actual penetration, Hannibal’s body pressed against him, smooth and warm and heavy, Hannibal’s hand running across his hip and taking Will’s cock in hand, stroking him slowly.

Suddenly Will tensed and cried out quietly, hot seed spilling over Hannibal’s hand. So Hannibal let go as well, coming with a mellow purr against Will’s neck, his hips half pulled back so he’d spread his seed over the love bites and beard burn on Will’s skin rather than the sheets.

He still kept fisting Will’s softening cock, knowing he’d be overwhelming Will.

But he liked the way Will whimpered into the pillow, not sprawling like he could have had, still giving Hannibal opportunity to thrust lightly, spread his semen over Will’s skin.

Hannibal noted Will going stiff as well as limp under him and start shaking slightly. So Hannibal withdrew slowly and turned Will on his back, checking on him. Again a small focal seizure, just mildly affecting the motor cortex, Will’s breathing labored.

So Hannibal just pulled the sheets over Will and watched him until Will’s breathing evened out and he slipped into sleep.

Hannibal’s heartbeat had calmed down from the unusual, purely physical high and he lay back.

He closed his eyes and turned towards Will, wrapping his arms securely around the younger man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was supposed to be something else entirely. But a friend suggested Hannibal taking "naked chef" literally and somehow this happened. IDK.


End file.
